After his visit to the Henge, Kamron de Dinton has been… dare we say it… religious about his attendance of church. Now that the Exeter Questers have gathered in Sarum, he cannot spend his Sundays in the little chapel of Dinton, so he has come to the grand Cathedral. Services have long since ended, but Kamron has lingered, and only now rises from his kneeling position before the altar with a little groan, brushing dust off his knees and straightening his tunics. Behind him, Jonnin Newton sits in a pew, testing his eyes for leaks. There are a few monks still moving here and there throughout the cathedral, but in general they are off doing whatever they do throughout the day.

Failed.
Arian checked her awareness of 10, she rolled 11.
Success
Arian checked her dex of 15, she rolled 7.

Cautious as a church mouse, Arian de Laverstock peeks cautiously around the corner of the narthex into the grand nave of the cathedral. She had stood outside the church for hours, watching the comings and goings from her spot across the market. She had finished two apples in that time, leaving the cores at her feet in the rough dirt. Only once she was certain that the ebb and flow through the cathedral had lessened did she approach and slip inside. Those first steps in had been cautious, as if waiting for Caerwyn's threats of fire to come to fruition. Now she braves the nave. Her hands are clasped behind her back as if afraid to accidentally touch something. She cannot help looking up at the vast, looming ceilings that fully enclose this holy place. She is used to a roof of trees or naked sky; here, she feels more closed in — caged. She is too busy looking up at the ceilings to see the brass floor candelabra, and bumps right into it. It clatters slightly, but she manages to catch it before it fully hits the ground, merely spilling candle wax all over the stone floors. Her heart catches in her chest and her eyes dart around, nervously looking for those infamous monks.

Kamron lights a taper from one candle, moves it over toward another… and then there is a clatter behind him, and he whirls, his brows lifting sharply and the taper still burning within his hands. The sight of the distinctly Pagan knight holding the candlestand askew in the midst of the church causes a low laugh to bubble up in his throat. Stiffling the sound with the back of his sleeve, and then ruins the quiet by yelping a little as the taper burns down to his fingers. Shaking the flame out and setting it amongst the others, he turns back to the cross at the front of the nave, making the sign of the Cross, backing a few steps away, and then turning to move over to Arian, his voice hushed, "I don't remember making that much of a mess of the Henge, Lady Arian."

"Kamron," Arian gasps, righting the candelabra quickly but carefully. She is flushed with embarrassment, and she starts tugging at her skirts and belt and fussing with her hands. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to interrupt. I was just… I was… my…" She shakes her head, ducking her chin slightly. "My curiosity got the better of me." She looks at the spilled wax, and it takes all she can muster not to try to clean it up. "You're right, I am sorry… I don't want to cause insult…" Her eyes travel up the aisle between the pews toward the altar, and then back to the approaching Dinton knight.

Kamron shakes his head slightly, moving back past the pew holding his squire without waking the young man. "You did not interrupt, My Lady. Services are long over, and I had finished my prayers." He steps over to assist in righting the heavy candelabra, but it is already upright, and so he merely stays outside the spill of wax, his voice still hushed, "And is your curiosity sated now? Do not worry about the spill. Some time, I'll tell you about the time I nearly set a tapestry alight in the chapel at Dinton."

Kamron's words relax Arian a bit. She laughs, albeit weakly, and brushes her fingers back across the back of her neck where her hair has been pulled back and twisted up with that pale yellow ribbon. "I don't know… curiosity piqued, actually." She glances up at the ceilings once more, stepping out from behind the pew and into the aisle. "Does your god like buildings, and roofs?" Her pale eyes wander across the ribs that hold the vast ceilings up before they alight once more on Kamron. "Does he not like the rain, or the wind, or the sun?"

The knight's eyes follow her hand to the ribbon, and he smiles lightly. Any comment he might have on that subject, however, is washed away by the questions that follow, his gaze rising to the ceiling, "I think that the priests enjoy the roof, and disdain the rain, wind, and sun. God is everywhere, but the tapestries, pews, and candles cannot survive everywhere. To say nothing of the lovely Bibles that the priests read from. I think they are the things that disdain the weather."

Arian looks a touch suspicious at the mention of the priests preferences, particularly when the bible is spoken of. She casts a dubious glance back up the aisle toward the altar, and then back to Kamron. "I suppose that even a man of god deserves comfort and protection." Then she dimples softly at him. She steps up toward the back pew, sliding into it cautiously. She clasps her hands together in her lap. "Is it… is it alright that I'm here?" Then she pinks softly. "Were you this nervous when you were at the Henge?"

Kamron shakes his head slightly at the wariness, "Don't worry, Rhi," that much is a bare whisper as he follows her over to the edge of the pew, resting a hand on the wood alongside her shoulder, "They're busy. They all have tasks to do following the service." The dimpled smile gains a quiet laugh and a smile in return, "I think so, and yes, I was." Shrugging a little helplessly, he adds, "I must admit that I'm not the most knowledgeable of churchly duties and studies. I attend, I listen, and I believe, but the details are beyond my study."

Kamron shakes his head slightly at the wariness, "Don't worry, Rhi," that much is a bare whisper as he follows her over to the edge of the pew, resting a hand on the wood alongside her shoulder, "They're busy. They all have tasks to do following the service." The dimpled smile gains a quiet laugh and a smile in return, "I think so, and yes, I was." Shrugging a little helplessly, he adds, "I must admit that I'm not the most knowledgeable of churchly duties and studies. I attend, I listen, and I believe, but the details are beyond my study. Some Roman Christians would undoubtedly complain of the presence of an unbaptised person in the church, but we British Christians are much more forgiving and trusting to the good in all people."

The Laverstock slides down the pew a bit, making room for the other knight to join her if he wishes. "I'm thankful for your trust, and to know that I won't be immediately be thrashed for being a… what do you call us? Heathens?" Her nose wrinkles pleasantly as her smile remains soft and dimpled. "A heathen in your holiest of places." She folds her fingers together demurely, admiring the structure and its contents. "So, what did your god tell you today?" She glances to him, head cocked and brows slightly arched. "Does he speak to you, or… through your monks?"

Kamron shrugs again, "Heathens, pagans, prospective converts, or simply 'people.'" He glances around the cathedral, then slips into the pew, carefully sitting with his shoulder just a touch apart from hers, but his knee just brushing her own, "And I think most would protest that this is far from our holiest place… both in importance and in geography. But it is beautiful, especially when shared with beauty." Her questions draw a slight, thoughtful frown, and then he shrugs, "I pray to God, but I am not blessed to hear His words in response directly. The priests interpret the words of God for those of us of lesser blessing."

When Kamron's knee touches hers, Arian returns the touch with her own pressure. She is almost daring enough to close that barest distance between their shoulders, but spares Kam from that extra touch. At his compliment, she pinks. "You mean that, don't you? My beauty?" She rolls her lower lip between her teeth. "Even when you have so many comparisons? Your cousin, Lady Seren, my cousin… the Priestess Signe, the Lady Gwynaelle…" She is certain the list could go on, but she spares him further examples. Then she looks back up toward the altar. "I suppose that is not dissimiliar to the Priests and Priestesses… they interpret the signs from the God and Goddess, but I speak to them all the same. Sometimes, I think they answer… in their own way. A soft breeze at my cheek, the taste of rain on my lips…"

Kamron looks over to the lady knight at her question, nodding his head, "I do, My Lady. I can find beauty in most any woman, but I do not have to look far at all to find it in you." Spreading his hands slightly in his lap, he shrugs just a little, "Each of those noble ladies have their own beauty, and their own strength. As do you." There's a moment's pause, and he laughs quietly, "Burcombes may not be struck still at the sight of you, but Burcombes are not known for their intelligence, sense, or anything else positive or discerning."

Arian still wears her blush, and wears it well — almost as well as any lady would. When he spreads out his hands in explanation, she sets her left hand upon his right and draws it gently into her lap where she may hold the calloused palm within both of hers. Her fingertips are not soft as a proper lady's, but her touch is featherweight. She looks up into his startling blue-gray eyes. "Is it wrong of me to think so little of those ladies and their swooning men? I know envy is very unbecoming, as is I'm sure scorn." She rolls her lip between her teeth, clinging lightly to the corner of the soft tier. "I'm sure each Lady has her merits…"

Kamron lets the warmth of her blush wash over him, warming him to his core — or so he thinks, until her hands cradle his. Then he truly knows warmth, there in the last pew of the Cathedral of Sarum. His fingers curl against hers, feeling her own calluses from the play of weapons upon her skin. "You did not think it becoming when I envied Sir Glaw his gift of the garland there in the henge?"

Critical Success!
Arian checked her chaste of 4, she rolled 4.

Arian, perhaps inspired by the Christian's holy place, shows great restraint as he stirs her nerves and causes small shivers to tinkle up her spine. She actually looks quite demure, chin dipped and eyes lowered. Her smile remains on her lips, though. "I actually found it quite becoming… it pleased me a bit to see you jealous of the man's gesture, though I also felt a touch guilty." Her blush returns. "Sir Glaw had told me he was going to offer me a garland… to test my Christian's favor." She starts to smile once more, but it is a shy smile.

Kamron curls his fingers between hers, studying the lady knight's profile as she dips her head, "Guilty? Well you see then, it proves that we are all born with some good in us, as we British Christians say. You could not so torment one you wished to… show affection for." Because he will not force upon her the word of 'love,' for all that he already used it. "So you thought you would drive me to jealousy, and then surprise me with your own garland? Now just what would have happened if I had not thought to arrange one for myself? I would have been shamed, to be left without…" Yes, he's definitely teasing her again.

Success
Arian checked her lustful of 16, she rolled 1.

"Is that all we have, Sir Kamron?" Arian's smile takes on an impish edge, and her knee presses up against his. "Affection?" She tilts her head as her pale eyes almost glow in the faint light of the cathedral. "I was hoping that my presence would stir you toward ardor, at least." She bites at her lower lip, capturing her smile before it can dare grow wider. She casts a cautious glance around the nave, carefully taking note of the snoozing Newt. Then she leans in close, lips almost touching his cheek as she murmurs, "I know that I have felt a certain longing since Imbolc." Then she laughs softly against his jaw, and pulls back to smile. "I was surprised you had arranged one to begin with, Kam… I didn't expect it."

Failed.
Kamron checked his lustful at 7, he rolled 8.
Failed.
Kamron checked his chaste at 13, he rolled 18.

Kam's knee rocks under her nudge, and he chuckles softly, "Affection is a good name for it." His eyes finally tear away from hers, looking up toward the crucifix at the end of the nave, "At least in Cathedral." He looks back in time to catch her nibbling on her lower lip, and his own lips curve into a much warmer smile. When she leans close, his fingers tighten around hers, and he murmurs, "You're not the only one, Rhi." And then he twists his own head, pressing his lips to her opposite cheek in a quick kiss. "I thought it might be a surprise." Ahead of them, Newt grumbles and stirs, then leans his head back and begins to snore softly. Kam glances forward to the squire, then looks back to Arian, smiling lightly, "I was counting on it, actually."

"Affection then." Rhi follows his glance belatedly toward the crucifix, lingering on the display just for a moment. After all, its the snoring Newt who captures her attention and critque first. No monks and the squire sleeping? My, that is setting up a Pagan for mischief no matter the place. Then she turns back to him. "You wanted to catch me off guard? Were you afraid I might turn you down if I was expecting it?" Her smile has not lost its impish quality. She presses her hand to his cheek, and turns him toward her so she can press a soft kiss to his lips.

Kamron blinks in surprise at her words, then smothers a laugh, "No…" and then his lips are caught up in something altogether more entertaining than speaking, even for him. His lips move beneath hers, and his free hand rises to brush his fingertips over her cheek. A hard shiver runs down his back, and leaning forward like that is suddenly a little uncomfortable. His eyes remain closed when he leans back, letting out a little breath that is totally lost beneath a Newt-born snore. "I wanted to catch you off-guard because you blush more when you're surprised."

A satisfied warmth flushes across her, and she finds herself wonderfully satisfied by the attention the Knight gives her. Of course, as he mentions what it takes to get her blush, she is all blushing again. She ducks her chin slightly, looking almost demured by his words. "You played me well, Sir Kamron." When she looks back up to meet his gaze, there is an ember of smoldering warmth in her gaze. "I think I rather like that about you."

"Oh, don't think of it as being played…" And then she mentions enjoying it, and Kamron shifts in his seat, clearing a suddenly-tight throat, "…or, you know, think of it exactly like that." He is apparently smooth only to a point, and his ears begin to heat. Canoodling in church, really… and here comes an acolyte of some sort swinging a censer. Kam straightens up a little, clearing his throat, but doesn't release her hand, keeping the joined digits tucked between them, "You kiss rather well," the words are just murmured, his head bowed down somewhat to hide his words from the slowly-walking churchman, "I think I rather like that about you."

When his ears go red, Arian's smile turns slightly triumphant. She is about to push those bounds of propriety a bit more before the acolyte appears, and she straightens up almost in sync with Kamron. Her fingers tighten a bit around his own, but then relax into soft caresses at his knuckles. The murmured words draw out her dimples, and she casts a sidelong glance his way. "It is unfortunate that we can't share more of those moments…" She bites softly at her lower lip, trying to relax her features as the acolyte nears. "But I suppose that is the price we pay…"

Kamron brushes his thumb along the side of her clasped hand, "It is. There are definitely times that I wish we were something else than we are." He doesn't stay somber for long, however, his lips curling into his trademark crooked grin. Blue-gray eyes follow the slow, stately pace of the acolyte, and then chuckles softly under his breath, murmuring, "But there is something exciting about it, isn't there?" Perhaps he's not quite so staid as he appears to be.

"Something else?" Arian's brows lift. "I don't wish that upon us… a peasant from Dinton and a peasant from Laverstock happening across one another?" She shakes her head, offering him a warm smile that is meant to melt any heart. "I'm thankful for who and what we are…" Then her nose wrinkles and her smile turns impish. "And yes, it is exciting." Her eyes drop down as if to be demure, but that only adds mischief to her demeanor.

Kamron shrugs a little helplessly at her comment, "Maybe you're right. The freedom is an intoxicating thought, however." The smile, however, has the desired effect, his expression softening and warming. His eyes flicker to the censer-bearer as the man reaches the front of the cathedral and swings the scented smoke first one way, and then the other, then return to Arian's mischievous smile, murmuring, "I don't know how you could possibly be concerned about your beauty, Rhi."

"Oh, there is so much in the world that is intoxicating," Arian offers with a small smile of amusement. She also follows the glance to the censer-bearer, she squeezes his fingers with hers in a passing gesture. His compliment draws a soft laugh from her, though she stifles it quickly before the acolyte looks their way. "If you find me beautiful, I suppose that is enough." She says here when there's no other beauties around to make her feel self-conscious. She then starts to loosen her grip from his. "Will you go for a walk with me, Sir Kamron? I miss the sky."

Success
Kamron checked his dex at 13, he rolled 7.

Kamron smiles at the feel of her fingers on his, nodding his approval of her words. The request draws a sober nod, and he releases her hand so that he can stand up, step to the edge of the pew, and offer out his left arm to her. "I think that a walk would be delightful, Lady Arian." Digging into his belt-pouch with his right hand, he pulls out a penny, hefting it a moment and then lofting it dead into Newt's lap, sending the squire flailing and snorting into wakefulness. That draws the attention of the censer-bearer, and Kamron notes, "For the donation box, Newt. I hope your prayers are completed, we're leaving."

Arian can't help but offer another stifled laugh at the flicked coin, but she offers Newt an apologetic smile all the same. The lady sweeps out of the pew, and links her arm with his and resting her opposite hand against his forearm. She tilts her head. "I was hoping without Newt, but I suppose we can test his mettle against having to watch flirting." She then offers a gentle bob to the acolyte as they make thier departure.

Newt bobs his head, "Yessi — " and then he spots Arian and starts abruptly. Apparently, he never saw her come into the church. Kamron watches as the young man skitter off to the donation box, and he turns to lead Arian back up the nave and narthex to the main doors, "Well, I don't want to lose him in Sarum. I can certainly send him back up to the castle… but what would people say?" The knight's lips quirk up at one corner, and he arches his thick brows, "Which reminds me… I do hope that your charming minder is feeling alright. I'm so terribly sorry that she's not here." No, he's not. "I don't think she would be so interested in walking thirty or forty paces behind us."

The Laverstock laughs at both the playful comments of Newt and the missing Morla. She shakes her head, glancing at her feet as her smile redoubles. "She didn't see the need to follow me into the church, nor endure hours of patient waiting in the market. She went off to see to her own business. I assume she knows I will be alright." She maintains an easy, slow pace with the Knight. "I'm sure Newt is plenty… when it comes to chaperoning us." Her nose wrinkles and eyes glimmer with amusement. Then she guides him out of the church and into Sarum.